


In Need VIII

by DirtyDuchess



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyDuchess/pseuds/DirtyDuchess
Summary: Joan finds that a boring day at Victoria Police Academy suddenly becomes Very. Interesting. IndeeD!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With heartfelt thanks to Ifitbelove and the joys of our random conversations. Who'd have thought a chat about police uniforms could have morphed into this smut? Thank you so much for your video research ;-)
> 
> And to Nox <3

What an uTTEer waste of time, Joan thought eyes rolling and arms crossed. The Chair of the Board had insisted all Governors attend these ‘Information Days’ with the Victoria Police. Some guff about better cooperation between public services. More like an excuse for further budget cuts! Band all services together and force the same cheaper procurement contracts on them, irrespective of the nature and needs of the individual services. But anything for the Department to shave a few more dollars in a futile political bid to prove to the public that Correctional Services was value for money. Joan snorted inwardly and tugged her jacket straight. As if that would make a difference to the public. Most of them would only be satisfied if the junkies and paedos were thrown in sacks and drowned in the Yarra like unwanted kittens. 

Nonetheless, Joan was a pragmatist who recognised the importance of cultivating contacts and it never hurt to have too many friends at all ranks of the police. There were, however, a few familiar faces amongst the colleagues from other public services she made a mental note to avoid during the coffee and lunch breaks; that drab senior social worker and the weasel-faced head of housing from the city council for a start. In the meantime Joan settled back in her seat, eyes roaming the room, to observe. 

The first session was not promising. The introductory presentation was delivered by a dull fast track pipsqueak with an extended HR vocabulary but obviously no frontline experience whatsoever. Honestly, thought Joan, do they put them in those oversized suits the day after they collect their HSC Certificates these days? Or did one require a university degree now, meaning they had at least reached the milestone age of twenty-one. This one looked like he had barely begun shaving but here he was lecturing senior people with years of experience. Humph!

A video and Powerpoint presentation of the force's new uniform followed. There was enthusiastic, detailed talk of performance fabrics, meeting the strenuous requirements of the active and varied role of the modern police officer. With the exception of the formal uniform Joan thought it simply looked more casual, which in her opinion diminished the authority of the officers. But it was undoubtedly cheaper and that was no doubt the crux. 

The crisp, navy blue, long-sleeved shirt and tie of the dress uniform was something else though. Joan fingered the edge of her jacket. She had to admit that standard issue uniforms had improved significantly in the years since she'd joined Correctional Services but she still, like many other female officers in particular, had to have hers tailored to suit her unique body shape. Somehow she didn't feel that wearing a uniform that looked like a sack would have quite the same....impact. And she was experienced enough to know that impact was everything in a Governor's line of work. 

A fifteen-minute coffee break followed this session, which Joan spent alone in her seat checking work emails on her phone. She refused to drink the tar–like, stewed coffee on principle and preferred not to be cornered by someone she had no desire to talk too. God, what a waste of time this day was! Why the hell the Chair of the Board couldn’t attend this political nonsense himself so she could get on with some real work was beyond Joan. 

The pre-lunch session began with a brusque introduction from a familiar face. Joan felt a delighted smile twitch the corners of her mouth as she returned her phone to her pocket and crossed her long legs. The Cop she had seen in David Jones – what a delighTful shopping trip that had been - stood before her, but something about her was different. Legs planted shoulder width apart, arms folded across that ample chest and inadvertently modelling a navy blue long-sleeved shirt and tie, long legs encased in matching navy blue pants, she launched into a outline of new police practices. 

She’d personally overseen a pilot project of advanced training in restraint, control and negotiation techniques; the idea being to reduce the number of call-outs for the Critical Incident Response Units. She described, with the assistance of a detailed and factual presentation of graphs and figures on the screen behind her how, over a six-month period, officers had been able to deal with a huge number of more serious situations themselves without having to call for backup. This had resulted in both less pressure on staffing as well as a significant reduction in costs. 

As Joan eyed The Cop – an Inspector according to the presentation – and listened closely she found herself quietly impressed. The woman’s ranking was higher than Joan had expected given her age, which she judged to be in her mid-thirties, and her professional interest was also piqued. Here was a possible opportunity to avoid having to call in the SSG and thereby safeguarding her budget, as well as reducing unnecessary and unwelcome external interference in Wentworth affairs. 

The lunch break arrived. Joan approached the Inspector from the side, admiring the way her tight blue trousers clung to her large solid arse cheeks; the blue shirt accentuated her protruding biceps. Maybe this new uniform did have its advantages, mused Joan. Her hair, that was it! That’s what was different. It was now short, the huge braided ponytail gone. It made her look much younger and accentuated the fine features of her face; her high cheekbones and full mouth. Mmmm that mouth. Joan fixated on her lips, the top one narrow, the bottom one plump and expressive. She fleetingly imagined rubbing her clit over that mouth, being suckled by those lips, a pink tongue snaking inside her.

Shaking her head, Joan introduced herself to the Inspector, congratulated her on the success of her project and engaged her in conversation about the possibility of arranging for the training of a select group of Wentworth officers in the techniques described in her presentation. “In the interests of mutually beneficial inter-agency cooperation of course,” she said, maintaining eye contact with The Cop. “Your own internal inquisitorial squad?” The Inspector laughed in reply. “Yeah, why not? The top brass will be pleased,” she rolled her eyes conspiratorially. And I’d get to see more of you, she thought. 

The Inspector promised to call Joan’s office to arrange a time for a further meeting and discussion. “What happened to the hair by the way? Fancied a change?” Joan felt strange initiating casual conversation. Usually she hated having to do that, but there was something about this woman that made her want to know more.  
“Nah, it’s part of the new policy. No ponytails allowed for safety reasons and there was no way I was gonna be able to tame that mane into a bun like yours so it just seemed easier.”  
“Suits you,” said Joan with a nod and a fleeting, awkward smile.  
At that they parted company.


	2. Chapter 2

The Inspector stared at Joan’s imposing, retreating back. Jesus, the woman was hot! And interested too, she could tell. She thought about the stained streaky leather glove in her bedside drawer at home, of her now customary fantasy of The Governor: on all fours, naked and fucking herself with a gloved hand, her face buried in The Cop’s cunt, her own hand wound deeply in that big, black bun to pull her closer. Fuck! 

Joan ate a hurried lunch and spoke briefly to the Chief Commissioner, a known and valued acquaintance, before stepping outside to call Wentworth for an update on the morning’s events at the prison. The afternoon session began with a tour of the training academy and a demonstration of some of the training techniques in a large gymnasium. Joan noted that all the officers involved in these demonstrations were women, who followed every barked instruction of The Inspector deferentially and to the letter. She was obviously very highly respected. Joan’s interest was piqued further.

She could feel an ache of longing stirring deep in her belly. She lived and loved to dominate (and yes, fuck) other women but sometimes…just sometimes, it was wonderful to let someone else take over. It couldn’t just be anyone though; it had to be a woman who knew exactly what she was doing and what she wanted to do to Joan. It was a gut feeling. Did a woman have the confidence and ability to subdue her, Joan Ferguson? She always knew in an instant. And there was something about the way this Cop repeatedly glanced at her, that thin upper lip slightly curled, looking her unashamedly up and down like prey, that made Joan wet. 

As the group made its way back towards the main meeting room for the final session Joan lost sight of the Inspector. She felt an unexpected rush of disappointment and lagged behind the group to avoid being engaged in nauseating small talk. That odious man from housing looked as though he was gearing up to approach her for a sniveling conversation and Joan was determined not to be on the receiving end of it. 

As the others rounded a corner in front of her Joan felt a fierce grip on her upper arm and turned her head just in time to see The Inspector close in on her before she was unceremoniously forced through a door to their left into a stationary supply cupboard. She felt a thrill of anticipation as a lock clicked and she detected the snap of latex gloves. Joan couldn’t fault The Cop's confidence and authority. It was a complete turn on.

“What happened to The Blond, Inspector?”  
“That’s ancient history, Governor and not your concern right now.”  
She forced her firm thigh between Joan's from behind, then slid broad hands around her waist to undo her belt, button and zip before yanking her trousers down and off, revealing pink underwear. “Hot, pink panties, Governor? You’re full of surprises.”  
“Washing. Machine’s. Broken,” gasped Joan. “Emergency pair.”

The Cop sank to her haunches and ran her large warm hands all over the big, pale arse in front of her face, massaging the muscled cheeks. She’d watched this swaying arse retreating from her enough times; right now she needed to touch it, to taste it. “You work out, Governor.”   
“I'm a fencer. It's all that lunging." The Cop hooked her large thumbs inside the edges of the girly underwear and slowly pulled it towards her, ensuring that the panties chafed the entire length of Joan’s slit, before sliding them over her broad arse cheeks and down her long, pale thighs. 

She noted with satisfaction how they had clung to the woman’s sticky cunt with resistance before reluctantly parting company. After casting them aside she continued running her hands over Joan's cheeks. They were broad, the lines commensurate with Joan's maturity, but solid, and the skin so very soft. This was a woman who took care of herself; and an arse to grab hold of, to sink your teeth into, thought The Cop. She kissed the tender, soft skin at the top of Joan’s divide then slid her face downwards and buried her nose between The Governor’s cheeks. She inhaled the unmistakable scent of a woman’s arousal, of tangy sweat and a sweet but earthier scent. She felt her clit pulse steadily between her kneeling thighs. 

Joan grunted, and pushed her arse back into The Cop’s face. The young Inspector needed no further encouragement. She extended her thick tongue; sucked and then ran a thick latexed forefinger over and around the star-shaped hole, teasing and pressing. “You like a bit of rough touching your arsehole don't ya, Governor?” Joan groaned in response, her hips rotating as she sought harder contact. 

Joan remembered Vera doing this. Her clit jolted at the memory but this was something else. Surprising as Vera had turned out to be...initially at least...she was still a novice. Joan knew that THIS woman knew exactly what she wanted and what to do! It was so very titillating. She could feel herself getting wetter by the second with anticipation of The Cop's next move.

The Inspector's other hand was cupped around the very top of Joan's right thigh. Still on her knees she deliberately stroked her thumb towards the Governor's vulva, always only just grazing the edge of her damp lips. She knew it would drive this imposing woman into a frenzy. She unzipped her blue pants with her free hand and pushed them to her knees as she rose to her full height. She pressed against Joan to make sure The Governor felt the leather straps of her harness chafe against her arse. She slid a hand between their bodies, squeezing the hot arse again for good measure, and pushed two fingers deep into The Governor to open her up. Pulling them quickly out again, she raised them to the dim light and observed thick silver, gossamer strands of arousal. “Governor…”

She allowed the solitary word to hang in the air as she stepped slightly back from Joan to fix her big, black cock into place. She was aching to fuck this woman, to hear her. Prying her cheeks apart with her big hands, she teased The Governor’s arsehole with the thick bulbous head before guiding it with one hand into her slippery crevice. “Maybe next time eh, Governor?”

Despite her wild arousal Joan felt a sense of relief. She remembered fantasising about being fucked in the arse by this woman in that changing room but preferred to engage in such activities in a more private setting than this one. God but she still wanted to be fucked by her! Her cunt felt as though it were vibrating with desperate need. She couldn’t wait to feel this strong woman inside her. “Fuck me,” she stated throatily. 

The Inspector tilted her hips forward and pushed her cock deep inside The Governor. “How do you like it, Joan?” she whispered lustily in her ear. Without waiting for a reply she pulled back and then thrust the cock hard into her again. She started up a quick rhythm; pulling out slowly and shoving as deep as she could back into the woman, who braced her arms against the wall and moaned as she cocked her delectable arse back at her to feel the full impact of her thrusts. She felt her own hot juices seeping along her slit; every thrust of the cock rubbed her diamond hard clit sending mini shock waves of sensation through her cunt. Fuck, this woman was hot! She knew that she was going to come real fast at this rate. 

Hips still thrusting she slid her warm hand over Joan’s soft, round belly and pulled on a thick, damp fleece. “Aaaagh,” cried The Governor. “Touch me, now!”  
“You telling me what to do, Governor?” replied the Inspector pulling her hand away. “You think I don’t know how to fuck you?” She licked the back of Joan’s neck and thrust extra hard into her for effect.  
“No, I…aaagghhhh, fuck!!”  
Concerned that the noise would carry into the corridor, The Inspector wrapped an arm around Joan’s face. Her groaning muffled, Joan instantly sank her teeth deep into the solid bicep, her tongue worrying at the stiff blue cotton. 

“Good girl,” purred The Inspector, hips still churning. Ripping the latex glove from her other hand with her teeth she quickly slid it back into the furred divide, separating slippery lips with thick fingers. She found a large, protruding clit and circled it with a fat forefinger before adding her middle finger to a quickening rhythm; passing over the tip of the hard nub, pressing from the sides, tweaking from underneath. She felt The Governor groan again, the delicious bite of those teeth in her arm and her own clit fire as the woman shunted her cunt backwards onto her cock. 

She threw her arse forward, fucking this sexy woman as deep and fast as she could, Joan’s arse and her thighs slapping together. She was unrelenting in her manipulation of the rock hard clit underneath her fingers. She focused on Joan’s thrusting arse cheeks, on her muffled grunts, as her own cunt exploded. There was nothing sweeter than coming with her cock inside a hot woman. Waves of pleasure coursed through her as her hips continued to rotate of their own accord and she felt the shaking Governor reach her own shuddering climax seconds later. She could feel her cock being milked by Joan’s spasming cunt and the Governor’s legs giving way as she slumped forward against the wall. Holding her tightly around the waist with wet fingers, she pressed her body into Joan’s and kissed her gently behind the ear. Breathing heavily, neither of them spoke for a moment. 

Detaching her other arm from around The Governor’s face and pulling her cock out of her, she turned Joan around and, looking at her arm, said, “You’ve left me the wet patch, Governor.” Joan laughed and kissed the The Inspector lightly on the lips.  
“And, if I’m not mistaken, a little souvenir underneath it that’ll take a while to fade,” replied The Governor, her obsidian eyes twinkling. “So you’ll call my office about another meeting?”  
“You bet. You know how important this inter-agency cooperation is to me.”  
Joan retrieved her clothes and dressed, eyeing the streaky cock hungrily before it was removed, and regretting that she had to return to Wentworth for a 4pm meeting.   
“Until next time then. I’ll look forward to it.”


End file.
